Letters To Lily
by My Sharpie Is Green
Summary: James decides to write a letter to Lily every day for a year to show her he's matured, but will his plan to woo her work? T for language
1. 1 September

**I don't own Harry Potter. R&R if you want me to keep going or if you don't. I wanted to write this after seeing The Lake House (good movie, by the way).**

Dear Lily,

It's me, James, even though you probably already know that because I probably delivered these in person…or I didn't, I'm not really sure because you won't be reading this for months and I can't tell what I'm going to be doing then, you know? But I'd like to think that I would deliver these to you myself, so I'll just assume that you know who I am, but I told you anyways just in case, so now you definitely know…I'm babbling. Sorry. I'm going to write you a letter a day, Lily, and I mean that. One for every bloody day of our bloody seventh year. And at the end of it all, when we get on the train back to King's Cross and are going away from Hogwarts forever, I'll give them all to you and maybe then you'll believe me when I say that I've matured and that I love you.

I told you that today, on the train. You laughed and kind of scoffed at me, and you told me that I'd never grow up and that even if I did I would still be too much of a prat for you to go out with me. Why do you do that, Lily? I mean, I know I can be a bit immature at times, but you don't really know me. You could if you wanted to. If you tried, I'd let you in. I'd answer any question you asked me without hesitation, because I _want_ you to know me. If you're going to put me down, I'd like to think that you had spent enough time with me for what you were saying about me to actually be valid. And maybe I don't know enough about you, either, to claim that you're flawless and amazing, but I've tried, Lily! I've asked you about your family and your childhood and what's going on in your life and what are you doing for summer and what do you want to do after school ends and do you know what you do? You shut me down and you walk away.

I saw you at King's Cross. You were with your mum and dad (your sister wasn't around, but she usually isn't), and you were crying. You weren't sobbing or making a scene or being loud or anything, and you didn't seem angry, you were just…sad. And I really wanted to go up to you after they walked away and ask you what was wrong but I knew you'd yell at me and I really want you to like me so I'm trying really hard not to make you angry with me, so I just sort of watched you walk off and wipe your eyes and get into a compartment where you met up with some friends, and after that I went off to look for Sirius and Remus and Peter. I didn't see you again until we had to go up with the prefects.

You seemed really surprised when you saw that I'd been made Head Boy. I was too, of course, as were my friends, but your reaction was almost insulting. You snapped at me that stealing Remus' badge wasn't going to impress you and that if I didn't return it right away you'd take points way and we hadn't even gotten to Hogwarts yet. You really don't have any faith in me, do you? And I'm sorry if you read this and think that I don't like you very much, because I know this is kind of how this is coming off and that's how I mean all this, its just that I don't think you really realize how I really feel. I said earlier that I'd tell you everything if you asked, but you haven't and this is the only way I can think of to get you to sit down and realize what I feel and go through on a daily basis and I kind of just wanted you to know that it hurts when you yell at me when all I want to do is impress you, even if I don't ever show it. And maybe that's my fault and maybe I should, I don't really know. But I think you'd tease me if I showed it, too.

Hope you had a good day and I hope that whatever it was you were crying about wasn't something serious and I hope that when I give these to you, you make it to the end of this letter and don't just chuck them all in the fire or stuff them in your suitcase or something and I hope you know that I think you're the most amazing creature on the planet, I really do. More amazing and beautiful and wonderful than a Veela, even, and if you know what a Veela is (and I think that you probably do, since you read so much), then you know that that's a really big compliment.

—James 


	2. 5 September

**Any puppy comments in this one come from the fact that I have puppies on the brain—we got an 8-week-old black lab the yesterday, and he's adorable! Oh yeah, I absolutely do not own _HP._ The night picnic thing is inspired by Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.**

Dear Lily,

So far my plan to make you realize how much I've changed is failing miserably, mainly because I accidentally turned your hair purple during Charms and it took Professor Flitwick the entire rest of the class to figure out exactly what I'd done so he could change it back (on a side note, I didn't even manage to turn my bird into book, its wings just got a bit leathery). You thought I did it on purpose, but I swear it was an accident! As hard as you find this to believe, I really don't want to make you mad at me. I'd rather like it if you didn't think I was a complete git.

Thankfully, however, it doesn't seem like that particular mishap ruined your day, or anything. On the contrary, you seemed to be enjoying yourself very much at lunch. After you got up and screamed at me, anyways. (Sirius still hasn't shut up about the fact that I simply sat there and said nothing the entire time you went off, and I did want to say something, but I got the feeling that whatever was going to come out of my mouth was not going to be good and that it was probably just better to say nothing at all—I wouldn't want you to hate me more than you already do, if that's even possible.)

After lunch we had Potions with Slughorn. You know, Lily, I think he might have a little bit of a crush on you (_please_ don't hit me when you read that). I mean, he talks more about you than anyone else in the bloody class—even more than…well, I don't want to write his name and besmudgeon this piece of parchment, but you know the slimy git I'm talking about. Well, no, not slimy git, per say, because that's immature…is 'vile, despicable, purely evil and loathsome Slytherin' better? Ah well, either way, I suppose. You sat by Remus today, and I got stuck with the aforementioned vile, despicable, purely evil and loathsome Slytherin. The entire time he goaded me about how you won't go out with me, and that he had a better chance of dating you than I do… That's not true, is it? I mean, surely you wouldn't lower yourself to that level? Surely you wouldn't date a foul mouthed, vile, despicable, purely evil and loathsome Slytherin—he called you a…. well, I don't want to say it, but you know what he called you in fifth year! I'll be watching him when he sits next to you for the rest of the year—he's got an agenda Lily, I know it! I like it when Remus sits with you. I _trust _Remus.

Hope you're sleeping well. It's actually about one o'clock in the morning now, but it took that long for Sirius to go to bed. He doesn't know I'm writing these to you—neither does Peter. It's not that I'm embarrassed or anything, I just don't want one of them to let it slip. The only person I told was Remus, because he's sensible and seems like he would know about these things (AND he knows how to keep _his_ big mouth shut). He hasn't ever had a girlfriend, or anything, but that's because…well, let's just say he has his reasons, which are his to share or not. He thought this was a good idea, but now I'm not so sure. Right now you won't speak to me, unless you're yelling at me for something I did wrong. Come to think of it, sometimes you treat me like a puppy that's just made a mess on the carpet.

The stars are pretty tonight. I mean, I'd rather you be sleeping well and be well rested for the morning than looking out your window (what do the girls' dorms overlook? Ours look over the lake, which is a nice view, especially when it's clear out), but if you are, then it's a good night for insomnia. One day, if you give me a chance, I'll take you out on a night like tonight and I'll take you down to the lake and we'll have a night picnic. Night picnics are different than daytime picnics. I think you'd like a night picnic. I just hope you'd like a night picnic with me.

Goodnight,

—James

**I've decided to just post random days and not EVERY day, because that would be tedious, but I'll only continue if I get reviews!**


	3. 18 September

**Thank C.S. Lewis for this update—I reread _The Magician's Nephew _and _The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe_ today and started _The Horse and His Boy_, which made me want to update. Also, I worked out which letters I'm going to write and there'll be 35 chapters in all.**

Lily,

It's nearly midnight and I'm writing this by the light of the dying fire in the common room. It's not that I can't sleep—in fact, it's just the opposite. Actually, I was out late practicing Quidditch (and, thanks to the fact that it started pouring rain as soon as we stepped out of the locker rooms, I am now muddier than I have ever been before and am soaked to the bone), and when I went to go up to the dorm…well, let's just say that Sirius had 'occupied' the room. Must've been empty when he and whatserface got back from their date… Remus and Peter are still nowhere to be found, but I'm too tired to search for them. Godric knows where they could be, anyways.

Speaking of dates, have you forgiven me for _accidentally _breaking you and Stebbins up last year? After all, I didn't mean to give him a concussion after being a bit…_overzealous_…with the Disarming spell? Alright, well, I did mean to, but that didn't mean he should have broken things off with you! See, he wasn't good enough for you anyways. I was just looking out for you, see! Think of where you'd be if I hadn't done that—probably black and blue all over! The man never properly appreciated you…oh, Godric, I can hear you yelling at me for that right now and you're not even in the room.

I almost feel bad for joking about that, though, because you were torn up for weeks, and you have not let me forget that, either. But you seem to be moving on alright—you have, dare I say it, a new boyfriend. Not something I'm really particularly happy about, but it's not like I can change that. Stephen Wilkes—I play Quidditch with him. The worst part, though, is that he's actually just as good a Chaser as me (not like I'd ever admit that to anyone else), he's just not as attractive as me and therefore gets far less attention. You actually surprised me when I found out—you don't seem to go for the athletes. I asked you why you agreed to date him, of all people, seeing as I'm much better looking, and you hit me and told me that you like to date guys with actual brains. I'll have you know that I have an 'E' average in…most of my classes. Except for History of Magic—it was only with Remus' notes that I never failed that class. But can you blame me? I don't know how you and Remus resist the stupefying affect of Binns' voice. Positively baffling.

Well…I have to stop here, Lily. Some girl I don't recognize is stumbling down the boys' stairs, which hopefully means that I can get into the room now… I really hope so, because there's some kind of odd lump under the small of my back.

Goodnight,

—James


	4. 30 September

**Sorry about the delay on this one—I planned out every chapter, then lost the plan, then found it again, not to mention I also went through driver's ed. craziness and a breakup…it's been a long couple of weeks : ) Also, a note on Lily: Lily might start to come off as a little nasty, but keep in mind that this is from James' point of view, which is a bit skewed. She's really not so bad.**

Dear Lily,

It was cold today, with blustering winds and icy sleet; hardly ideal conditions for Quidditch, but of course Marke wanted to practice (mad as a Hatter, he is). I had important business to take care of, however, so I skipped and went about my way. I've been hiding from him since I got back from Hogsmeade as Sirius tells me that Marke is currently on a hunt for my head. Knowing you, your eyebrows probably raised when I said that I was in Hogsmeade as it's a Monday night (although I'm not sure if you'd remember that this far back, but you would at least know that we didn't have a Hogsmeade weekend this early), but I did have good reason. Someone special to me has a birthday coming up and someone else has a genius plan. I bought you two presents today—one that I'll give you in my usually overdone, overzealous, loud public manner, and the other…I have special plans for the other. I owled your father your father anonymously, asking him what a secret admirer could possibly get you for your birthday that you would love. He owled back, but not with a reply—instead, he sent a catalogue in which you had circled several items. Your father had made an asterisk next to one particular piece in different colored ink. I wasn't sure what was so special about it at first glance. It looked like an ordinary picture frame with Gryffindor-hued crystals at first, but then I read the description. Apparently, they frame a photograph of the recipient's favorite memory. It seemed clever and unconventional (and also what you wanted), so I put the order in and it should be here in time for me to add my card to you as your secret (not public) admirer.

In other news, classes are already grueling in preparation for the N.E.W.T.S. (especially McGonagall's—I think it's about time that _somebody_ pulled the wand out of her rear end). The workload is worse than it's ever been before, and all for a silly test! Why does it matter how I do on it, for instance? I hate to sound arrogant, but my parents have enough money for me to live off of for the rest of my life without getting a job, and they're glad to let me do it. Really, when am I ever going to need to know how to turn a fowl into a water goblet into a porcupine into a pincushion? I don't sew and I always plan to have an adequate supply of both water goblets (which is a fair amount) and fowl (which is none). Some rubbish, eh? And I know what you'll say to that: "It's all about _technique_, James! Besides, you need to know how to perform unexpected spells. Anything can happen at any given second, James, and you need to be prepared." You were always the smart one.

You've seemed nervous lately, Lily. I know that this will be a little too late by the time you get these, but I know you'll do fantastic on the N.E.W.T.S. You excel at everything you try—you're like King Midas and turn everything you touch to gold. You're a spectacular human being, and I hope you know that.

That said, are you sure you're alright? I was in the library today waiting for Eric Cetyl, who does my homework, to meet me and I overheard some of your friends talking about how worried they were about you. I caught some snippets of their conversation, including "she's getting worse, I think," and "I don't think Lily can hold up like this much longer," before Eric tapped me on the shoulder and handed me the notebook my papers were in and opened up his palm for his payment. I know the chances that you'll tell me anything of your own free will are slim, and I'd hate to ask you. I know you'd say you were fine. I just want you to know that I'm worried about you, Lily, and I hope that counts for something.

Thinking of you,

—James


	5. 3 October

**I'm sorry for the big break between chapters, but they'll be coming slower now that school's back in session. I'll try to get at least one more out by Christmas, but no guarantees.**

Dear Lily,

I'm afraid that you might be a bit, er, _cross_ with me. You see, it's your birthday, and I, erm, got a bit carried away with giving you your present. I decided that I would leave your "secret admirer" gift in your bedroom and then your regular present (a necklace) to you in person; however, when I went up to your dorm, I managed to somehow get there right as you were stepping out of the shower… I do swear to you, though, that it was completely unintentional, although I don't exactly regret seeing you in that fluffy blue towel… But, erm, I digress. I apologize. Regardless, I have detention for a month, starting tomorrow. Should be smashing good fun.

Needless to say, I left the necklace with you instead.

The frame, on the other hand, was mailed with one of the school owls – you know, the great brown barn owls? I thought it'd be a bit obvious if I used my own, he's a bit…_flashy._ Later that night, I got a letter back. You loved it. Yes, that's correct. You used the word 'love' in correlation to something that I gave you. And so I sent you another letter in response to yours. I think that we ended up talking like that until about two in the morning, at which point you realized that you weren't going to get enough sleep and ended the conversation, but not before agreeing to meet me in the very last compartment of the Hogwarts Express when we leave Hogwarts in June. You wanted to meet before the holidays, but I need more time than that. I don't think you'll quite stop hating me by then.

I hear you met with Dumbledore yesterday; I wonder what that was about? Of course, I doubt you'll ever tell me, but maybe after reading this you will. I'll probably still be curious when you get these. I think that I'm going to try to get a meeting with Dumbledore. He seems like a pretty cool bat. Of course, meeting with him is probably something drastic. Maybe you're giving up your duties as Head Girl because of me…but you wouldn't do that. You like your prestige too much for my presence to bother you that much. Your grades can't be slipping, either, you're perfect prefect Lily Evans.

Maybe you're pregnant.

…Godric. That was a joke. Siriously. Haha, get it, siriusly? Like Sirius? Sorry, that's not mature, is it? And, for the record, I don't think you're pregnant. You're too good of a girl to do that, and besides, this morning, you certainly did not look pregnant.

And, while you're about ready to beat the bloody pulp out of me most likely, I'm going to stop this letter and let you go on to the next one, which I'm sure will have no mention of such immature topics.

Siriusly yours,

—James


	6. 19 October

Dear Lily,

I am writing this very late, but only because I had a very hard time leaving the common room – we won the match against Slytherin today. Bloody good thing, too – the vile, despicable, purely evil and loathsome Slytherin that I've mentioned in previous letters had seemed convinced his house would win. Which was a bollocks opinion, anyways, as I doubt he could even tell which ball was the Quaffle if you shoved it up his…. Right, moving on.

Sirius managed to smuggle in some Firewhiskey for the after party, but I saw you glaring at me, so I reached for a butterbeer instead, holding it up in your direction so you could see that it was, presumably, innocent (actually, I just switched the labels when you weren't looking). Only had one, though. The rest were butterbeer, I think, but then again, Sirius kept saying something about someone being "sloshed, bloody sloshed" although I couldn't hear him well, so I'm not sure who he was talking about… Hmm… Hope you are well. Were with Wilkes tonight… Bloody…

The dormitory is spinning? Isn't that nice? I think so. ...Oo, Remus has just come in, and he's spinning too! Oh…he says he's going to take the letter away. 's not very nice. …He looks angry…

G'night


	7. 21 October

**Okay. I know. I said that I'd try to get another update up before New Year's and now March is almost over. It's just that I've been a bit out of juice. I'll hopefully be updating more frequently now, and, if not, the school year is over on June 15th.**

**If I'm not updating this, there's a good chance that I'm doing some drabbles to get juices flowing or that there's something on my page that you haven't read, so check it out.**

Dearest Lily,

I have officially passed the point of being concerned – I am now absolutely convinced that you are not bloody alright. I'd forgotten about my Astronomy homework, so I'd gone up to the North tower and, lo and behold, there you were. Crying. And I have to admit; I hate to see you cry. You're too beautiful, hon. …You would kill me if you ever heard me call you 'Hon'. Or any other term of endearment, come to think of it. I called you "baby" once in fifth year. That didn't end well. Certain…things…just haven't functioned the same since.

Shame, really. I'm sure you'll regret that eventually.

Ahem, back on topic, yes. You were sitting on the ledge (probably not too ridiculously smart – what if you had fallen, Lil?) and obviously weren't expecting visitors. Of course, I didn't notice you at first, and I suppose you were very still, hoping I would leave or simply didn't notice me, as I was awfully quiet. I must have been there for nearly an hour before it started to pour, ruining my parchment. See, that's when I swore – albeit loudly – you jumped, not expecting it, lost your balance, and shrieked.

Naturally, I grabbed you – Quidditch reflexes are good for some things, you know. You stared at me for a second, shocked, and then:

"James?"

"Lily, are you alright?"

"I…what the hell are you doing here, James?"

"Saving your life."

"Just go away, would you?"

I blinked for a moment. "You've been crying."

"It's just the rain, Potter. Leave."

"No, it's not. Your eyes – they're swollen."

"I asked you to go away."

"This isn't _your_ tower, Lily."

"I'll tell McGonagall."

"On what grounds? I hate to break it to you, Evans, but you're just as out of bounds as I am."

"I'm on duty."

"That's a lie and we both know it."

That's when you left. I'm starting to think that I might never have a chance with you. I mean, not counting any mishaps from years previous, I have so far this year:

Turned your hair purple

Walked in on you almost naked (Oh, so close!)

Gotten horribly sloshed at a victory party

And somehow gotten you bloody miffed at me for saving your life.

I'm beginning to get nonplussed. After all, I don't see how you can always be angry with me. I'm halfway decent some of the time, and I know I've been a downright gentleman at least once. And even if you're angry with me for what I said about you lying, well, it was true, wasn't it?

It's just that…I don't know how to be there for you. And it's frustrating, yes, but you know that I've been trying. I'm not giving up on this, Lily. I'm going to keep pestering you until you're finally so annoyed that you give in.

And if that doesn't work, I'll have Remus come up with a Plan B.

—James


	8. 31 October

**I'm working on making longer, quicker updates. We'll see how it goes.**

**If you like Grey's Anatomy, I've been working on some fanfics that you should check out.**

Dear Lily,

Happy Halloween. The Great Hall really looked spectacular tonight, didn't it? I have to admit, as cruel as it seems, watching Alice Horowitz – you know, the Hufflepuff going out with Frank Longbottom (he was a year above us) – scream as the bats came flying through. Funny how they've never used them before; seems fairly logical to me. Hagrid's pumpkins were really lovely, too. After the feast, Remus, Sirius, Peter, and I all climbed into one and enchanted it to float around as we sang Christmas carols at the tops of our voices. Oh, you should have seen old Snivelly's – I mean, the foul, vile, loathsome and evil Slytherin's – face. Bloody hell was that a sight.

I must admit, however, the highlight of my day had to be when Slughorn sat us at the same table today in Potions. Not only that, but it gets better – you were actually civil. You even let me use some of your armadillo bile because I ran out (or at least that's what I told you). I was amazed.

I believe that we have made tremendous progress since our little spat in the Astronomy Tower, dear. Although I'd still like to know what you were so upset about that you were willing to break curfew and go out of bounds just to get a bit of crying done. I wonder if it had something to do with Wilkes – you two have seemed to be a bit distant lately. Or at least you've been distant with him.

For instance, at dinner today he kept trying to make jokes (or at least that's what I think he was doing)… either way, you didn't seem amused. You were stabbing your steak with your fork, and when he tried to wrap his arm around you, you sort of shrugged him off. Eventually you said that you were full and were going to go upstairs and sleep – you told him you'd had a "long day".

When you got up, you'd barely touched your food. I would know – I was sitting three seats away, facing you.

If things don't work out between you two, I will be sorry. Not because you broke up, but because he hurt you (if, indeed, he does). And then I'll find him in the changing room and beat him to a bloody pulp, but that's beside the point.

The point is I'm concerned about you. And I think that you're digging your own grave here, because I don't think Wilkes is your type. I'm just beginning to worry that maybe _I'm_ not your type either. Of course, you'd say I wasn't, so I wouldn't bother with asking you – you see, you haven't seen my newly formed mature side yet. I think you'd like this version of James Potter, but maybe I'm wrong, and, if I am… well, let's just say that the only plans I've made for life after Hogwarts involve you and James Juniors.

You know, I'd be happy to be your friend. Not forever, because, eventually, that would stop being enough and I'd want more – I know that about myself and I can admit that – but for a little while. And if you told me something, anything, any tiny moment from your day or little secret, I swear to Merlin that I wouldn't tell a soul. That's what you're afraid of, I know it. You think you can't trust me, that I'll tell all of your thoughts and secrets to Sirius or Remus or the whole of Gryffindor, but I won't. I wouldn't.

You're not the only one who's seemed a bit off lately. At our last practice, Wilkes came storming into the changing room in a huff and when any of us tried to ask him what was wrong, he just snapped at us to stay out of it.

I just hope he's treating you with all the respect you deserve. And I hope that you find something or some comfort that makes you happy – really, truly happy, as in not settling and not feeling as though you have to run up to the Astronomy Tower and cry because it's all too much.

And, if I were your friend, I could be that comfort.

I'm not an idiot, Lily. I know that I might go through the effort of writing you a letter every day only to have you take one look at these and chuck them in the bin, or that you might read them and laugh at me. I understand this and I'm ready for it, if that's how it happens. I hope that you can believe me that I'm being honest here, but, just in case, I've been bracing myself for your rejection.

I can handle it. Because even if you're rejecting me at that point, at least you'll know by the gigantic stack of letters that I was serious about you all along, even when you doubted me.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that you were nice to me today, so… thank you for that.

Happy Halloween, Lily.

—James


	9. 9 November

Dear Lily,

Strangest thing happened today. We were sitting at breakfast when an owl came for you. Now, that isn't something that's strange within itself, of course, because your parents like to keep in touch, no – what was strange was that it was from your sister. While I may not know much about you, I do know that she and her porker of a husband absolutely abhor magic and that she more or less hates you (something that, Lily dear, I can't quite understand). You opened the letter, which was in a Muggle envelope, with shaking hands and pulled it out just far enough to read it. Wilkes tried to look over your shoulder to see what it said, but you pulled away from him, holding it against your chest.

"It's nothing," you said quietly, but I saw how your skin lost its pigment as your eyes scanned the words on the page. You ate another bite of omelet before putting on an air of surprise and muttering an excuse about having forgotten your Charms homework in your dorm. Wilkes nodded and half-smiled and you walked away, but he slumped in his seat after you were gone.

For the first time, I almost felt badly for him.

I finished my food quickly and heaped a plate with everything I could get my hands on before rushing out of the Great Hall and up to the Common Room. I didn't believe you when you said that you would be there, but you had been telling the truth. You were lying stretched out on the crimson couch, your arms above your head as you exhaled deeply.

"Who is it?" You sounded nearly defeated.

"Me."

You reluctantly opened one eye, squinted at me, and closed it again.

"I brought you food."

"I'm not… I'm afraid I haven't got much of an appetite, Potter."

I walked over and leaned against the arm of the couch. "Well, I'll leave it for you, just in case you change your mind." I went to leave, but you stopped me.

"What are your parents like?"

I raised a brow at you, then laughed and smiled. "They're… they're like grandparents. Old and sweet and happy."

The corners of your lips twitched slightly.

"What about yours?"

You chortled quietly to yourself. "Trust me, James. Yours are better than mine."

"Right. Okay, well, I'll leave you alone now, I guess." I went to climb out of the portrait hole, but, encouraged by the fact that you had called me by my first name, added, "Would you like to maybe meet up for a Butterbeer today – you know, since we're going to Hogsmeade?"

You propped yourself up on your elbows, pushing your bangs out of your eyes. "I don't think I'm going today."

"Oh. Right, of course. I understand completely."

"Maybe some other time?"

I looked at you and decided that you were genuine.

"I'll hold you to that."

You laughed.

"Alright."

"Have fun with the couch."

"Will do, James."

This might have been the best day all year.

—James


	10. 25 November

**Here we are…not too bad of a wait.**

Oh, joyous day! Calloo, callay!

The wonderful inevitable has occurred – you and Wilkes have finally separated. Not that the entire day has been wonderful, of course – you were quite upset when you two started screaming at each other from opposite ends of the dinner table tonight, but I was so focused on the fact that you weren't screaming at me for once that I couldn't really be too fazed.

I still can't figure out what he did to get you so angry, but I definitely don't envy him. You can really sink your teeth in when you want to. I am curious what the argument was about, though. I swear I heard you hollering something awful about "personal space" and "popping the bubble". Not sure what the last one meant, but I can certainly guess.

…No wonder you hate me.

Moving on, your foul mood stuck around for the rest of the day. We were seated next to each other in Potions, which would have been great if you hadn't spent the hour impaling beetles on your desk with a knife. I'm fairly sure that you were imagining Wilkes' head scuttling around in front of you.

"Are you alright?" You looked up as you put the beetles into your mortar and began to grind your pestle into them with unnecessary force. "I mean, if you wanted to talk, or…"

"Shut it, Potter," you grunted.

To any other man in the school, that would have been off-putting, but I'm especially devoted to my darling. "Are you sure I can't do something?"

"Why are all men so bloody daft that you can't understand two very simple words?" Your voice had reached a hysteric high point and Remus turned around, staring at me in bewilderment. I shrugged my shoulders.

"Hey! That's – "

"All I am asking you to do is shove off. Please, Potter – just for a bit."

As you went back to your beetle, I came up with a brilliant plan – a dating service called Blokes with Brains, filled with entries of the many personalities of yours truly. I mentioned it out loud and you simply took one look at me, dumped your beetle paste onto the front of shirt, and walked away.

I'm starting to think you'd prefer Wilkes to me.

—James


	11. 14 December

Dear Lily,

It's bloody freezing out today – after ages of waiting, the first snow of the year finally came today. I've just finished walking from the greenhouses to the Common Room and I'm sopping wet. It's brilliant! Peter, Remus, Sirius, and I are going to have a bit of a snowball fight after lunch. Actually, we're going to ambush Sirius' prat of a younger brother, but it's all relative, is it not? No face shots, I promise, alright? …Fine. I'll tell them I won't go. What, you want me to? Thank you for being so reasonable, darling. That's just _lovely_ of you. I feel so much better now that I've gotten your approval.

Dear Godric, I just took instructions from a piece of parchment. I'm going bloody mad.

Oh oh oh! Guess where Sirius and I are going for Christmas holiday? France! My parents are disappointed and wish that I would stay at home; perhaps go skiing or something similar, but bugger them. Sirius and I are going to France! And not only are Sirius and I going to France, but today was the last Quidditch match until 1978 (_1978!_) and we beat Ravenclaw by a landslide. They only scored ten points all game. It was so beautiful, I almost cried.

Speaking of Quidditch, the oddest thing happened after the game. As we were changing, Wilkes glanced over at me from the opposite end of the locker room.

"I'd like a word, Potter."

I was caught a bit off guard, but I had an inkling of what he wanted to say. "All ears."

"Alone."

I paused – my first thought was that they would find me in pieces in a bin, but, as I'm writing this, it obviously didn't happen quite like that. "Oh. Right."

Giggling and nudging each other, the team quickly filed out, apart from Marke, who, with his big build and giant-esque height towered over Wilkes and I. Eyebrows furrowed, he extended two fingers in our directions. "I want no hitting, no beating, and no fighting. You two aren't beaters, you're chasers. You two aren't animals, you aren't Muggles, you're wizards and you'll act like wizards. I want no sore feelings between my teammates. I hear you've laid blows, you're both off the team – you too, Potter."

"Understood, sir," Wilkes said quietly. Marke turned to me.

"Oh, no worries there. No blows from me, Marke – blowing isn't my style."

Marke winced and walked out. When he was out of earshot, I looked at Wilkes. "I suppose you're going to ask me what I said or what I did this time."

"She's a great girl, isn't she?"

I looked around the locker room awkwardly. This was, more or less, the last conversation I ever wanted to have with Wilkes, apart from one involving him telling me that you two had eloped in Tahiti one weekend. "The greatest."

"Did you do anything?"

"Do you think that I did?"

"Not particularly. Am I wrong?"

"No."

He stretched out his arm, resting it against the wall and leaning. "Did she say anything to you?"

"No."

He half smiled. "Thanks anyways."

He started to walk out, but I stopped him. "You really liked her, didn't you?"

Wilkes shrugged. "She's great, but, deep down, she's yours." I stared, nonplussed. "Take care of her."

I'm not sure I've ever endured anything quite so…uncomfortable, although I was rather thankful that he hadn't approached me just to beat me into a bloody pulp. Not that he could, of course. I'm a much better Chaser than he is…not actually, but I like to think so. It's just that I felt as if I should be apologizing to him, even though I did nothing wrong. It was the first time that the torch has ever been passed, and I'm not really sure how I feel about that. Shouldn't you be doing the torch passing, not Wilkes?

Oh well. I suppose I ought to just take what I can get and not complain.

Sirius and I leave on the 19th, as soon as the Hogwart's Express drops at King's Cross. I'll be sure to owl you something lovely from little ol' Paris for Christmas.

—James


	12. 25 December

Merry Christmas, Lily – or, as I've heard so many times in the past couple days here in Paris, Joyeux Noel! Sirius and I are currently sleeping beneath a pretty, quaint little bridge near the damp shore of a little, not quite frozen creek in wizard Paris. Really quite charming, apart from the snow, whores, and rats. Scratch that middle one – Sirius quite likes the whores, the bloody hound.

I doubt you're much for the vagabond lifestyle, but there really is nothing like looking up at the Eiffel Tower at night, snow falling down with the lights glowing, a pack on your back and a lovely, frigid bridge to return to. Then again, there's also nothing quite like attacking your best friend under the aforementioned bridge because, like the thickheaded git that he is, he forgot the bloody hotel reservations (the prat). Ah, holiday cheer!

I know this is short, but I really didn't write this one to tell you about my ongoing trip (we leave the day after New Year's); I just wanted to say that I'm thinking about you and hope you're having an excellent day. You're supposed to spend Christmas with the people that you love, your family and best friends, so I guess what I'm trying to say is that I wish you were here.

Merry Christmas, Lily.

—James


	13. 31 December

Two in one day. I feel proud, especially considering that I had a test to study for and a bunch of homework today in school, not to mention a crazy night. Happy belated Memorial Day to those of you who celebrate; consider this my gift. (I can't believe it's almost June and I've just reached the end of the Christmas holidays!)

* * *

Dear Lily,

It's ten minutes until 1978, and I'm ending my year with this letter. Sirius and I snuck into a party meant for overage wizards at a local bar; it's full of plastered wizards and hags half in the bottle. At the moment, Sirius is buddying up to a warlock who introduced himself as Slargifarc. The two of them are on their third round of "Odo the Bold but Unlucky" and sound like a couple of cats dying in an alley. I'm quite disturbed; I may never look at him the same way again.

As I've laughed my ass off watching Sirius get piss-drunk, I've come up with my resolutions for the coming year:

I will – no, I must – pass my NEWTS…

…I will decide on a career before graduation and pursue it vigilantly…

…I will continue to write you letters until the last bloody day of school…

…and I will convince you that I am mature, kind, funny, charming, and quite worthy of breeding with.

They're beginning to count down.

Ten…nine…eight…seven…six…five…four…three…two…one…

HAPPY NEW YEAR, LILY!

Hope 1978's a blast for you.

—James


	14. 6 January

**I intend to finish this before DH is released, which gives me exactly a month. It's ambitious, but if I do a letter a day, I could have it done a few days ahead (I have 17 chapters left). Because once I read DH (in one sitting, of course), I'm going to go into an intense mourning period. Not to mention avoiding FFN out of respect to those less obsessed or without access to the book who don't want spoilers. But mostly mourning. Also, as a note, everyone should listen to "Accidental Babies" by Damien Rice. It's an acquired taste, like most of his stuff, but really haunting and beautiful. And everyone should watch **_**The Producers**_**, but that's a different story.**

Dear Lily,

NEWTs are sure to be the death of me. When McGonagall isn't randomly bursting into the Common Room and asking us why we all aren't studying, Slughorn is drilling into our brains that we will kill someone if we can't successfully make a sleeping draught and even Flitwick, despite his tiny stature, is intimidating us all. During Transfiguration today, McGonagall was so critical of Alice's candelabra (which was one of the best in the class; mine was horribly deformed) that Alice broke into hysterics and had to be escorted out of the class by two rather bewildered Ravenclaw girls.

Of course, Alice isn't the only one who's buckled under the pressure of our first day back. James MacDougan – the Hufflepuff beater – broke out in hives while trying to remember how to perform a Switching Spell and Julia Spine got ill at dinner. To make matters worse, McGonagall has been interviewing all of the Gryffindors about their plans post-Hogwarts. When she called me into her office, I could tell she was just as frazzled as the rest of us are.

"The world has changed, Potter."

I had yet to take a seat, and I decided to remain standing, pressed against the back wall. "Professor, I understand that I need to make a decision – "

"You didn't give me an answer two years ago, when I asked you the first time. I believe you told me that you wanted to 'take life as it came.'" A shadow of a smile crossed her pursed lips. "I suppose that's not going to last much longer for you, is it, Potter?"

"No, ma'am."

"And have you made a decision?"

I paused. "I've been thinking about this a lot lately – more so than I probably would have needed to if I hadn't shrugged it off in fifth year – and the truth is, I could live comfortably without working a single day in my life. But I wouldn't be happy doing that, especially with the war and everything that's happening. So I guess what I'm saying is I can't think of any job besides being an Auror."

"Tough line of work. Three years of intensive training, high dropout rates, and even higher fatality rates. If you aren't prepared for that risk, I'd suggest an easier career."

"It's not dying I'm afraid of, Professor."

Which is the honest truth. What I'm about to say is candid in the greatest sense; I've never told anybody this, not even Remus, but it explains most of what I do. I'm not afraid of dying, or of pain. If I was afraid to risk my life I wouldn't want to fight the Dark Lord and if I was afraid of getting hurt I wouldn't play Quidditch. I'm not afraid of being humiliated in front of the entire school by a girl with emerald eyes or of being hated. I'm afraid of failing. I'm afraid of disappointing my family and my friends, and, most of all, I'm afraid of disappointing you. And I'm afraid that you don't care enough about me to be disappointed. And, as humbling as this is, and as weak or foolish as you might see that, I ask that you take into consideration that of all the people I could ever have shared that with, I shared it with you.

After a few more prodding questions that I suppose must have been meant to test how serious I was, McGonagall told me about a secret group that Dumbledore was creating, meant for those who wanted to destroy the Dark Lord most. Dumbledore is asking me to find students whom I believe would be interested and devoted and to create a meeting, the first meeting of the Order of the Phoenix.

When I went back to the Common Room, Remus was there reading his Ancient Runes book and Sirius was passed out in one of the arm chairs, slumped over the side like some sort of shaggy haired rag doll.

"What's wrong with him?" I asked, inclining my head in Sirius' direction.

"Some girl he likes told him to bugger off. Apparently it's the first time since he came to Hogwarts. Poor bloke didn't take it very well, so Peter gave him some sleeping draught." Remus sounded bored and somewhat irritated.

"Please tell me Peter didn't give him anything he brewed himself. Sirius'll never wake up." I walked over and opened Sirius' eyelids, as if it would make a difference.

"Swiped some from Slughorn, I think."

"You seem bothered."

"I just think it's a good lesson for him. He struts around Hogwarts like he owns it, and, while it doesn't get on my nerves much because I see him when he's not surging with testosterone, but I think it's good that he finally realized not everyone appreciates arrogance." Remus smiled and closed his book. "Not that I think he'll change or anything."

I nodded.

"How was your meeting with McGonagall? Did she give you a hard time about not knowing what to do with your fabulously wealthy, pampered life?"

"More or less. …That's why she doesn't like me, isn't it?"

"Why who doesn't like you?"

"Lily. She thinks I'm a pigheaded arse, doesn't she?"

"James, we all think you're a pigheaded arse. Some of us just deal with it better than others."

I glared at him. "You know, I really do hate you sometimes."

It's getting late and long, so I'll close this already reflective letter with an apology. I don't mean to act thick or show off. …Well, I do mean to, but I don't intend to insult or offend anyone. It goes back to failure, just like everything else. If I look successful, then I am successful, or so goes the logic. Which, I guess, is pigheaded in and of itself.

Goodnight,

—James


	15. 14 February

Happy Valentine's Day, Lily!

Those were the only words I said to you today, the first Valentine's day in three years that you haven't had a boyfriend who could either beat me to a pulp or significantly outdo me in the sensitivity area. In third year, I sent four rather trollish looking Cupids to follow you around during the day, randomly serenading you with popular Muggle love songs. In fourth, I sent you a howler that screamed a love poem at you. Fifth year I gave you a locket inscribed with the words "James and Lily Forever 14.2.75", in the off chance that you would break up with your boyfriend and come running into my arms; in sixth year I sent you a pink snow owl, which I don't think you've ever used. This year I just said "Happy Valentine's Day".

I think I'm showing great improvement.

Of course, Sirius gave me a load of bollocks about being so simplistic. "What, no animal this year? She's going to start to think you don't like her." And then he punched my arm, which caused me to kick his leg, which caused Remus to intervene before we beat each other into a pulp, which is good, as I have a Quidditch match tomorrow. See, I'm not being lax or giving up, I'm just trying a different approach. In fact, giving you some room to breathe is, more or less, the only tactic I haven't employed and I thought I might as well give it a shot. If you never come around, well, I can't help that, but I don't want to think that if I'd said something else or been a certain other way it would have changed things.

I said it to you at breakfast and you sort of froze, your eyes nonplussed. "Are you going to embarrass me in front of the whole school now or later, because, to be honest, I'd rather get it over with now."

"I wasn't… that was it."

"Oh. Right then…sorry."

"Would you like…would you like to maybe go for a walk after dinner or have a chat?"

"I have an Arithmancy paper due tomorrow that I've barely touched. I'm really sorry, James." Then a friend of yours dragged you away, glaring at you, and you really did look genuine.

Best of all, you used my name.

—James


	16. 25 February

Dear Lily,

Today's been a long day (or at least that's how it feels), so this letter will be brief. Today is my eighteen birthday, and, to celebrate, my thickheaded friends dragged me down countless flights of moving stairs before the crack of dawn in order to give me a surprise wakeup. My friends, my trusted companions, dumped me in the lake in the middle of February in the bloody United Kingdom.

A glorious start compounded by the absolutely euphoria-inducing thrill of having Transfiguration and Double Potions and being on-duty tonight (I just got back).

The worst of it, though, was that you've gotten back together with Wilkes. Or at least I have to assume, as I caught you two snogging by the statue of Ogden the Odd during rounds. I coughed slightly and you turned around, frozen like someone had pointed a wand at you. Your cheeks were red, but I don't know whether it was from the embarrassment or the heat or a combination of both.

"Go back to the Common Room; you're out of bounds after curfew." Wilkes darted off immediately and dragged you after him, but you hesitated as though you were expecting something else. A jealous rage or strict punishment, perhaps. Truthfully, I wouldn't have had the energy if I had wanted to do that.

Happy birthday to me,

—James


	17. 7 March

**I saw The History Boys today (DVD, not the play unfortunately). I really enjoyed it, and I have to admit that I thought Scripps and Posner were excellent (Posner's "I'm Jewish, I'm small, I'm homosexual, and I live in Sheffield. I'm fucked" line was the best in the film as far as humor goes and the actor who plays Scripps looks, in my opinion, a lot like a young Aaron Eckhart). Speaking of Aaron Eckhart, has anyone seen Conversations with Other Women? If so, how is it?**

* * *

Bloody buggering hell. You know, Lily, I'm beginning to think that Remus is just as much of a sodding prick as the rest of them. I was eating breakfast this morning when I felt a tap on the shoulder. To my surprise, you were standing behind me when I turned around. I had been in the middle of shoveling bacon into my mouth and, half-asleep and stupid, saw no problem in greeting you –very politely – with a mouthful of food.

"Wadawoowan?"

You paused for a moment, perplexed, then carried on. "Erm, good morning." You were wringing your hands, something you only do when you're nervous. Remus smiled at you in a friendly fashion and Sirius stared at you, excited to an almost ridiculous level. "I was wondering if maybe you wanted to take that walk you asked me about a couple weeks ago."

I have to admit you caught me off guard. At this point I'd swallowed and, if I hadn't been before, your question had thrust me into full consciousness. "Alright. Yeah, okay."

You smiled slightly. "Great." Before following you out, I turned to Sirius and Remus. Remus simply shrugged while Sirius made a grotesque movement against the table, prompting Remus to smack him in the back of the head, sending Peter into fits of laughter. As we walked in silence through the empty halls, everyone else still eating breakfast, I wondered what could possibly be so important that you would come up to me on a Saturday with the whole school watching (except, of course, for Wilkes, who had managed to get on the foul side of one of the Slytherin beaters and was in the hospital wing). I knew you weren't in love with me and therefore weren't going to beg me to elope with you, and, as those seem to be the only reason girls drag me away from prying eyes (well, two of the three…) I was at a loss for what to think and simply followed you like a shell-shocked pup. When we reached the grounds you stopped and we stood quietly for a moment, enjoying the view of the lake and the feel of the breeze. I didn't dare to say a word, afraid of breaking the strange spell you seemed to be under.

"Beautiful day," you said. "Pity you don't have a match today, weather'd be perfect."

"Yes, well now that you've gone and said that, its guaranteed next week's conditions will be crap. Guaranteed. Thanks so much." You smiled for real and I could almost see your teeth. "Besides, we couldn't play this week regardless. No reserve Chaser. Hufflepuff's game with Slytherin today should be interesting, though, don't you think?"

"Yeah. John told me that I have to come up to the hospital wing right after and tell him the score. Give him a play-by-play. Which means that I've got no hope, as I don't know the faintest thing about Quidditch apart from the basics." And there we were. Barely talking for three minutes before we reached the dreaded topic of you and Wilkes snogging in a corridor after hours and out of bounds, the topic that had caused you to avoid me for a week and a half. As impossible as it seems, considering that we're Heads and I'm me and hopelessly crazy about you, we've managed to completely sidestep each other until this morning. "Look, James, about last week…"

"It doesn't matter."

"It does. I could have lost my badge if you'd gone to McGonagall and I just wanted to say thank you."

"Ah. I, er, I get it now."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"For a second I thought that you actually cared about the fact that I have been waiting for you for seven years like a pathetic little kid. But instead you only care about the fact that I saved you and your stupid badge. And here I thought that perfect prefect Lily Evans was actually going to admit she was wrong about something for once. How thick of me." I glanced at you. You were staring at the ground, your eyebrows arched in surprise and your mouth ever so slightly open. "I'm sorry. I was out of line."

"No, you were right." You paused, your arms folded. "Isn't it weird, how easily we can hurt someone without ever even noticing it?"

"Yeah, I guess it is."

"Remus said you've having a meeting on Monday. Something about Dumbledore."

Bloody bastard.

"Did he? I don't know what he's talking about."

"You don't need to protect me, James. What are you planning?"

I thought about it for a moment and decided you were trustworthy. "A secret plan to overtake He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and destroy him."

"And Dumbledore's helping you?"

"More like I'm helping him. His plan. His club."

You looked out at the lake again. "What time?"

"Room of Requirement at seven." I told you how to get in the room and then you went back to breakfast.

In case it matters, Hufflepuff won.

—James


	18. 16 March

I know I skipped yesterday, but I had writer's block and was sewing a very, very awesome Gryffindor iPod cozy. If any electronic were to work in Hogwarts, you all know it'd be an iPod in a Gryffindor iPod cozy. Maybe I'll get a double post in today, who knows?

Dear Lily,

Tonight (or, rather, yesterday at this point) marked the first official meeting of the Order of the Phoenix. The meeting was small – Sirius, Remus, and Peter; a pair of blokes from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff that Remus knows; and then you and Alice Horowitz. Once everyone had settled in, I got up and gave what I thought was a rather heroic and impressive-sounding speech.

"As everyone in this room is aware, a war is escalating in the real world – the one that exists outside of these walls. The world that we're getting ready to enter. When we graduate come June, we'll no longer have the protection of the only man Voldemort ever feared. We'll have to fend for ourselves, and we might have to fend for others as well. The Order of the Phoenix is a group of brave witches and wizards willing to risk everything in order to end the war and protect others."

Believe it or not, I didn't get much help from Remus in figuring out what to say. All I did was use him as a test audience, practicing in front of him in the dormitory during dinner this evening (I got food from the kitchens after the meeting). See, the trouble with this is selling involvement in a group where dying was more likely than surviving. I went on for a bit, not getting deeply in detail but simply explaining the risks and the goals. According to Dumbledore, the Dark Lord already knows about the Order. Actually, he knows about most things that go on, it's just our job to make sure he doesn't know enough.

"A sheet of parchment is going to be passed around. None of you are being forced to sign it. Only write your name down if you wish to fight for what this meeting has been spent discussing. Your signature is a declaration of your allegiance – to Dumbledore, to the Order, and to every individual whose life has been affected by Lord Voldemort in some way." I went first and handed it off to Sirius. He, Remus, and Peter signed it, the two boys that Remus had brought passed it to Alice, who hesitated before scrawling her name and handed it to you. You looked up at me, quill in hand. "You don't have to sign it, Lily."

"I know," you said quietly, and then you signed your name with a flourish.

I never realized how brave you are, or any of us. I had expected Remus and Sirius to sign, although Peter somewhat surprised me. I reckon he only joined up because we did, because I think sometimes Peter gets scared that if he stops being with us he won't mean anything anymore. He considers himself rather hapless, I suppose, and I guess he's right. I guess he's afraid of getting left behind.

Maybe we all are.

Good night (or good morning),

—James


	19. 14 April

**I'm sorry this took so long (almost two weeks), but things are starting to get crazy for me. I'm gone most of tomorrow, all of Sunday, and I can nearly guarantee that I won't be able to update on the 9****th****, 14****th****, or 15****th****. I have 9 chapters left (I managed to shave some off and combine others) and I'll be able to get them all in before DH. **

**I'm going to a Borders midnight party. What are you guys doing for the release?**

Dear Lily,

Contrary to everything I've ever thought, it turns out that doing busy work for McGonagall is a bloody good time and an aphrodisiac. You and I had been addressing and owling invitations to seventh year graduation, and you were actually talking to me. Nothing deep, of course, but there _was_ something deeply satisfying about hearing you complain about McGonagall and Slughorn.

"Ice Princess is being quite chatty today – did someone slip something into your pumpkin juice at dinner tonight? If so, I'd like to know where I could get some; it looks like quite the enjoyable little head rush." Then you punched my arm – quite hard, may I say – and stared at me indignantly.

"How did you possibly get to be Head Boy?"

"Now what do you mean by that, Lily darling?"

You rolled your eyes at the word 'darling', although that was the least of most of your reactions. "I mean that you're rude, reckless, and hardly responsible."

"That may be true, but I'm deliciously attractive."

"No, you're arrogant, and what does being attractive have to do with being a Head?"

"Well, girls'll listen to you if they want to sleep with you."

"James, no one in this school wants to sleep with you."

"That is where you're wrong, dear. And you called me James again." You cursed under your breath and went back to addressing parchment. "You see, it's been proven that the number of girls in detention increases on days when Sirius or I have detention."

"Yes, well, Sirius isn't Head Boy."

"No, he wouldn't be, seeing as he wasn't a prefect. Besides, they like me better anyways."

"I think I'm going to be sick."

I pretended to ignore you. "And I must be at least a bit responsible, seeing as Dumbledore put me in charge of the Order."

"Yet another thing I don't understand."

"Oh, come off it, Lily. You know you were impressed."

You frowned. "Maybe the tiniest bit impressed. But mostly confused."

"I will take it."

You shook your head, looking slightly disgusted. "So what is it, anyways? Are you in charge of the whole Order?"

"Nah, Dumbledore's club, not mine. I was just supposed to recruit possible seventh year members."

"So are we it? The six of us?"

"I don't think so, but I'm not really sure. I think Dumbledore's trying to pull some strings. Call in some favors, talk to some friends. If he does pull in people older than us, what do you bet McGonagall's in?"

"Most likely."

"Most likely? I'd say it's almost a shoo-in. I mean, it's so obvious she's got it bad for him."

"Potter, was that really necessary? That's disgusting."

"It's a shame they're so old – both must be ages past their prime."

"Potter, I swear to Godric that I will slap you if you don't shut up about Dumbledore and McGonagall doing…things." Your face was screwed up and I couldn't help but laugh at you.

"Alright, alright. Could have just said something. So, you asked me a question about the Order; can I ask you something personal?"

"That depends. How personal?"

"What's gotten your knickers in such a twist this year?"

"Pretty personal." You labeled a few more envelopes and I started working again. I assumed I'd gone too far and spoiled everything, but then you started talking. "My parents got divorced, over the holiday break. They told me about it right before I left for school, and I guess, up until Christmas, I'd been hoping they'd decide not to, you know? I mean, I know it's a bit ridiculous of me, it's just that my mum's sick, and my dad's always been the one to take care of her. I suppose he just couldn't do it anymore. Petunia blamed me, of course. She said that if I wasn't coming here and making sparks that dad wouldn't' have had to take care of mum on his own. I almost didn't come back, you know."

"I feel like a prat now."

"You are a prat, James."

"Don't forget thickheaded scallywag toe rag."

"Oh dear, I mustn't forget those."

"Do you like me, Lily?"

"Define 'like.'"

"Do you enjoy my presence?"

"Sometimes, maybe."

"What about my bum?"

"What?"

"I have a delectable bum, you know." I leaned it out towards you and you laughed. "Go on a night picnic with me."

"James, I'm with Wilkes."

"Just as friends."

You thought about it for a moment and then agreed. I can't wait.


	20. 15 April

**Okay, I know it's been ages since I updated, but I can't help it. July happens to be my craziest month out of the year, and, to top it all off, it makes sense that as soon as I set a deadline for myself I get horrible writer's block. If it's any consolation, this chapter's over a thousand words. I saw OotP at 11:20 on Wednesday. It was definitely better than the abysmal movie known as Goblet of Fire (which wasn't horrible in itself, but was a terrible adaptation). It reminded me more of Cuaron's efforts, which was good, but the scene between Bellatrix and Sirius was horribly edited (I know for a fact they shot the whole thing) and about 90 of Snape's Worst Memory (which was also filmed) was mysteriously missing…what were your thoughts?**

Dear Lily,

Tonight was the best bloody night of my entire life thus far, and maybe forever. After meeting you in the common room after dark and introducing you to my invisibility cloak, I took you to the kitchens to get food for our picnic. You seemed genuinely nonplussed by the swarms of house elves, all of whom were eager to serve us.

"Are they always that happy?" you asked me, and I guess I understand how confusing it could seem from your point of view. As a prominent pureblood family, we have one house elf, but my mum's known it since it was a child and it's not quite so neurotic as the nutters at Hogwarts.

"Chipper as could be." We took the food, put the cloak back on (you were wearing some sort of perfume that made you smell like flowers and raspberries), and made our way out onto the grounds, sneaking through the hallways in a barely successful attempt to avoid Peeves. Once we reached the shore of the lake, I took the cloak off and laid out a scarlet Gryffindor comforter that I knicked off of Peter's four-poster. You were staring at me quizzically, your eyebrows furrowed, and I could see that you were trying to figure something out. "Yes, Lily dear?"

"Tell me honestly – how many girls have you taken on this same date?"

I grinned. "You're calling this a date?"

"Well, I can only assume that you would. So what's my number? Five? Fifteen?"

"One."

"Really?"

"I've never taken a girl to the kitchens before, or to the lake, or on a picnic."

You blushed slightly. "Oh. Right."

And even though it was vaguely – well, more than vaguely – insulting, I do understand how you would think that was how it was. To you, and to most of the school, I'm a grand womanizing prat, and so it makes sense that I'd use the same date each and every time. Can I tell you a secret, Lily? For all of the girls I've dated and all of the girls I've kissed, I've never actually been with anyone, if you catch my drift. I've never gone on more than two dates with the same girl, and I've never been in love with anyone but you.

We talked about different things while we ate (I grabbed fruits and cakes from the kitchens, as we'd both already had dinner) and drank. You actually surprised me – when I gave you a choice between butterbeer and Firewhiskey, you chose the latter. I joked that perfect prefect Lily Evans was going bad, and you laughed, telling me that you fully expected me to seduce McGonagall and get you off of the hook if we got caught.

Anything for you.

After talking about your mum and your sister and the foul, vile, loathsome evil Slytherin I've mentioned before (whom you claim is "not all that horrid", despite the fact that he called you a…a…"you know" in fifth year), the conversation slowly came around to Wilkes. Of course, I think the alcohol might've loosened your tongue a bit, but I can't be positive, because I've never really been around you when you were being open, inebriated or not.

"Does he ever talk about me in the locker room?" you asked. You were laying back on the bedspread, looking up at the stars. "Little Dipper, Big Dipper," you added, pointing.

"Canus Major. And only once – after you broke up, he told me you were a 'great girl'. But he's never boasted or bragged. He's better than that. He's a decent guy."

You half-smiled. "My mum loves him to pieces. She's only met him once, of course. He visited over Christmas holidays, although it was quite odd. My aunt answered the door and let him in, and he just introduced himself and told her that he knew me from school and wanted to wish her well and a happy Christmas, and then he left. He didn't even say more than 'hello' to me, you know."

"Orion." Honestly, hearing you talk about Wilkes (and how much your mum loves Wilkes) makes me feel inferior and somewhat self-conscious. I wonder if your mum would like me? "Do you like him?"

The question caught you off guard and you looked up at me from where you were laying down. I was sitting up, pulling grass up mindlessly with one hand while the other rested on my knee. "I think so. I think I like him very much, but sometimes I feel like I only think I like him because I feel obligated to, because my mum's so fond of him. It's quite unfair, really." I nodded. "He really is a decent guy, though, isn't he?"

"He's just grand." You didn't catch the subtle sarcasm in my response, or, if you did, you didn't acknowledge it.

"What would you do?"

If my question about you liking Wilkes had thrown you off, I had been thrown off tenfold by your query. I ran a hand through my hair, trying to decide on the best answer. Telling you to stay with him would surely end any possibility of you falling for me, but what would telling you to run away with me do? You already know that I'm crazy for you. I looked over. You were sitting up now and level with me, genuine curiosity in your expression.

I sighed. "I'd stay with the decent guy."

"Oh. I suppose you're right, of course." You frowned, which, Lily, dear, was your fatal mistake.

"What would you do if I kissed you right now?"

"I…I don't know."

Throwing caution to the proverbial wind (although there was a lovely gentle breeze to accentuate the moment), I leaned forward and kissed you softly, running a hand through your hair. When I pulled away, you stared at me for a moment before reaching up and touching the back of my head softly and then pulling me in for a second, longer embrace. You pushed me back onto the blanket and we stayed intertwined like that for a long time. After we had finished kissing, you laid your head on my chest and we didn't have to say anything; you fell asleep there and, when I felt myself nodding off as well, I scooped you up and donned the invisibility cloak again, carrying you up to the common room as Peter's blanket trailed behind.


	21. 18 April

Lily,

If it's been your intent to confuse me, I can assure you that you have succeeded. I've given you time to figure out your stance on things and to break it to him gently, but it's been three days and he still holds your hands in the hallways and you still laugh at his jokes as though we never kissed. You can't deny that it happened, Lily, and I know that you weren't drunk – you had half a bottle of Firewhiskey, and while it may have served to loosen your tongue a bit it certainly didn't impair your judgment.

You keep staring me at meals with guilty eyes, as though you're waiting for the moment when I'll come storming up and tell him everything, but it won't happen. Because, as much as you have hinted otherwise, I, too, am a decent bloke. I am a decent bloke who's hopelessly in love with a girl who, apparently, is never going to love him back.

—James


	22. 1 May

Dear Lily,

Remus has decided that I've officially gone off the deep end. For the past two weeks I've been dragging him to the library every evening after dinner to "study for N.E.W.T.s"…and by study for NEWTS I mean practice speeches. Speeches intended for you, to put me back into your good graces, or, at the very least, force you to speak to me again. Remus says that if I tell him "I love you" one more time that he might actually hit me, but he's been a good sport. See, he refuses to say the thing that he and I both know is true, even if neither of us will admit it – it's been two weeks, and you're just not interested.

Sluggy sat us together in Potions today and you didn't say a word. I tried to make small talk, asking you how your shift last night was and how was your mum and lovely weather and those sorts of things, but you were dreadfully uninterested and I didn't manage more than a grunt out of you, which was really quite saddening. Desperate to talk to you, I tipped over a bottle of your armadillo bile a few moments before the bell rang. I leaned down to help you clean up and you told me to go, but I stayed until everyone else – even Slughorn – had left the room.

"Lily, about that Saturday…"

"It doesn't matter, James. Just go."

"That's the thing. It does matter. To me, it matters."

"I really am sorry, you know."

"You haven't told him, have you?"

"No." You frowned. "It's not that I don't like you, James, it's just… I'm with Wilkes and Wilkes is a decent bloke and you… I can't have been wrong about you for seven years. I just can't."

Which is when I realized the horrible irony of it all – you refuse to leave Wilkes because in being wrong about me you would have failed yourself, but in refusing to give me a chance _I_ fail.

I wonder what you'll think when you read this and realize that we're the exact same stubborn person.

I'll still give you these letters at year's end, but I want you to know that I've given up on us. In this ongoing, six-year battle, you win. I still love you, of course, but if you're happy, then I'm satisfied.

—James

P.S. As your secret admirer, I received an owl tonight. You asked to cancel our meeting on the train home because of Wilkes, but I convinced you to come, telling you that I just wanted to say hello. I just want to give you these letters, Lily. I just want you to know who I am.


	23. 6 June

**Three chapters left (yes, more combining occurred, but sometimes that's necessary)! I watched Capote last night, it really was excellent. Capote was such an interesting person and I think PSH did a great job of capturing all of his nuances and all of the not-so-pleasant aspects of him while at the same time humanizing him, and the man who played Perry Smith deserves some serious kudos as well. I've never felt so sympathetic towards a murder.**

Dear Lily,

I've ruined everything. We played for the Quidditch Cup today against Ravenclaw, and, even though we beat them, I realized I didn't care in the slightest. Not about Quidditch and not about the House Cup and not about the raging after party that would be thrown, chock full of sweets and drinks that Sirius nicked from the kitchens and Hogsmeade. I didn't care about any of it, because it's been nearly two months since you'd even insulted me and without you, everything just sort of falls to pieces.

After I'd been carried to the common room with the rest of the team, I made up a shoddy excuse about being tired and went up to my dorm after much protesting. Of course, I was wide-awake, but I didn't think that I could stand to see you and Wilkes celebrating. I ended up pulling out my schoolbooks and did some last minute cramming for the N.E.W.T.s, which begin Monday. It was an hour before the door opened and, to my great surprise, you appeared in my dorm. You walked over to Wilkes' nightstand and rummaged for a moment before you noticed me staring at you.

"Oh, James…you're awake." There was a freshly-opened butterbeer in your hand and your cheeks were flushed.

"I thought we couldn't get into other dorms?"

"Apparently the Founders thought that girls were a bit more trustworthy than boys."

"I think they were right," I said, and you smiled.

"I, um…do you know where Stephen keeps his, erm…oh Godric, I can't even remember what he asked me to grab for him." You chuckled and then walked over, sitting on the edge of my four-poster. "How studious of you," you said, looking at the open Herbology book in front of me.

"I haven't flipped a page in twenty minutes." I sat up and leaned against my pillow, my legs outstretched.

"Now there's the James Potter I know." As soon as you said it, the dorm got quiet, as if even the walls knew how awkward it sounded. I wanted to tell you that you don't know me at all, but that would have been rather rude, so I stayed quiet. "Why aren't you celebrating?"

"Not in a party mood, I s'pose." You nodded. "Do you mind if I ask you a question, Lily?"

"Go ahead."

"What do you want to do, after we graduate?"

"I'm going to be a Healer. I'd like to work at St. Mungo's."

"Admirable."

"I s'pose. Can I ask you something?"

"Go ahead."

"Are you avoiding the Common Room because of me?" I only paused for a moment before admitting the truth. You looked at me for a moment and then looked down at the carpet. Then you reached out and put a hand on each of my cheeks and touched your forehead to mine, wincing and frowning.

"Lily, you told me you were happy. Don't kiss me," I whispered, even though it killed me to say it.

"If I'm so happy, then why do I want to do this so badly?"

"Are you saying that you might feel something for me?"

"Maybe," you said, and then you touched your lips to mine softly. You lingered there until the door opened again, and then you pulled away quickly. I heard Wilkes start to call your name and I heard his voice trail off as he saw the kiss. The slightly intoxicated joyous glint faded from his eyes and he began to look angry.

"What the bloody hell is this?"

You looked over at me, scared, and right as you went to answer I spoke. "I kissed her. It was stupid and I'm sorry." And even as Wilkes squared up his right hook with my jaw, I couldn't hate you or be angry with you because it was true. I'd kissed you first and I'd started this whole mess. When he'd finished, Wilkes asked you if you were alright and you said that you were and told him that you'd meet him in the common room in a few minutes. He left after some coaxing and you immediately turned to me.

"You ought to see Madame Pomfrey."

"I'll be alright," I said, although I thought my jaw was dislocated. You pulled out your wand and performed a spell and most of the pain went away.

"Thank you." You'd placed a hand on my cheek again and were looking at me expectantly.

"You should have told him. You should have told him six weeks ago."

"I didn't know what I wanted six weeks ago."

"And you're saying that you do now? If you knew what you wanted, you would have said something. I…that's not even right. If you wanted something different than what you have now, you'd have said something. You don't want me, you're afraid of committing to him."

Your face had turned angry and you seemed disbelieving. "Are you kidding?"

"I really wish I was."

You nodded, still nonplussed. "You know, Potter, I think we should just get through graduation as Head Boy and Girl, and then that ought to be it. Don't you agree?"

You left before I could say anything.

I pretended to be asleep when Remus, Sirius, and Peter come up, but I heard them saying that you had broken up with Wilkes and debating on whether or not to wake me. As much as I've been waiting to hear that, I don't very much suppose it matters anymore.

—James

P.S. Between N.E.W.T.s and packing, I don't think I'll be able to write you another letter, Lily. I'll see you on the train ride home.


	24. 10 June Part I

**This is the last letter, but there's still two chapters to go. (HP7 out Friday at midnight!)**

Dear Lily,

It's about an hour before we all get on the train and go home, and I thought I'd write you just once more before I left. It's so odd to think that this is the end of Hogwarts – that soon we're all going to have jobs and lives. I'm still getting used to the idea that we're not coming back in the fall; it seems to be a rather foreign idea that we're about to go and do the things we've been talking about for seven years.

Graduation went well; we were civil when we made our speeches and sat next to each other, and when the ceremony had ended you wished me a good summer, which was rather nice of you. I think quite a few people were hoping for something interesting today. I don't know what you said to Wilkes or how public it was, but people seem to think that something more happened in the dorm than it did. Of course, no one's said anything to me since I nearly hexed Jacob Offerman on Sunday (Remus and Sirius had to drag me away, and Remus nearly pulled a wand on me), but I'm not thick. Most of the time.

I'm working at Zonko's during the summer and then I've been accepted into Auror training, N.E.W.T. results pending. You should stop in sometime, if you want to, even though I don't expect to see you.

Have a good holiday,

—James


	25. 10 June Part II

**Here it is, the first of the last. This should have been finished and posted on the eighteenth, but some things that were out of my control occurred and this has been my first chance to write or post. I read **_**Deathly Hallows**_** in a ten-hour marathon, and I'm largely happy with it, although (and I assure you I would be making this comment whether Harry lived or died, so those who have not finished need not fear spoilers) I miss him very much already.**

"Abbot's here, Donahue, Doherty, Ling – ah, there's Ling." Lily ran through the list of prefects in front of her, marking their names as she confirmed their presence in front of her. As she reached the end of her list, James began assigning different prefects to compartments and corridors.

"Remember, just because term's over doesn't mean everyone gets to do whatever they want. Make sure you guys assert yourselves, alright?"

Once the prefects had filed out to tend to their assignments, James looked at Lily. She was running back over the list of names and assignments and didn't catch his gaze. "Alright, well, I'll oversee the back compartments if you'll oversee the front." James smirked. "What?"

"You're not usually one to make requests on this sort of thing. Meeting friends for a last rendezvous?"

"Rendezvous, what a big word." He glared at her and she smiled. "Sort of."

He nodded and opened the door for her, letting her go ahead. "Have a good summer."

"You too, Potter."

Their shoulders brushed as she walked past him, and she paused for a moment before exiting the compartment, leaving a silent Potter behind.

As she strode smartly from the front compartment to the back, she saw the joyous celebrations of another year ended and couldn't help but smile herself. Truthfully, Lily was hoping that she could salvage the remains of a final year that, she thought most would agree, had largely gone up in smoke. If this secret admirer, whoever he was, was a halfway decent bloke, maybe she could exit the train with a smile on her face and perhaps the looming uncertainties of autumn and the adult wizard world would seem less daunting.

She thought over the list of boys she knew, boys graduating this year and with whom she had had contact – Severus, Sirius, Peter, and so the list went on, although she couldn't decide on a name. The only two men she had ruled out for certain were Stephen, whom had possessed no possible reason for hiding any affections he may have held, and James Potter, whom had rarely bothered to try. And yet there was still something familiar in the messy, yet tidy, scrawl. It was a scrawl that she had seen before; she knew it, if only she could figure out where. Perhaps it belonged to…

"Remus?" Lily stared ahead of her in shock as she opened the door to the end compartment of the Hogwarts Express, her eyes meeting an empty caboose with the exception of a shabby and tired-looking Remus Lupin. It wasn't possible, of course. No crony of James' would betray him as such. "Erm, have you seen any other blokes around here? Anyone, say, pop their head in for a look-see and leave?"

"Lily, I promise you that I'm the one you're looking for."

"Then you…_you_ sent the letters?" It all seemed rather odd and unbelievable, not because Remus was unpleasant or unattractive, but because he was so close to the boy whom had declared himself so in love with her years before.

"Merlin's beard, no. I'm merely the delivery bloke."

"The delivery…?"

Remus inclined his head toward a rather large burlap sack perched next to the seat he had recently vacated.

"I'm sure they explain themselves, Lily."

"'They?' So you're not…you're not my…?"

Remus laughed. "Lily, my good friend," he said while clasping his hands on her shoulders, "you're simply not my type."

He walked out and Lily walked toward the bag, slightly apprehensive of its contents. If Remus was in on it, surely this was a clever trick or prank devised by Black, one last hurrah before they left Hogwarts. By the odd way the bag lumped, she was expecting something foul and possibly alive, but when she gazed inside she merely saw several stacks of letters, each of them addressed to "Lily Evans, The Red Caboose, The Hogwarts Express" and dated in the same familiar handwriting. Reaching in, she found that the first letter of the first pile was dated for the first of September, the day the Hogwarts Express had left from Kings Cross nearly a year ago. Peeling up the wax that sealed the parchment, she unfolded the letter carefully, smoothing out the creases with nimble fingers before she began to read.

"'_Dear Lily, It's me James…_'"

Lily decided she needed to sit down.


	26. 26 June

**A finale that's over 1,000 words – my last parting gift. As I've said before, things happened on Wednesday that prevented me from posting until now, but I've come back and finished like I said I would, on the last day before the A.H. (After Harry) Era begins. Thank you guys for all of your support and reviews, they've been amazing and I love you all for it. The thought that this has lasted more than a year – and has survived through so many changes in my life – is almost crazy to think about and yet rewarding. It's without a doubt my largest fan fiction undertaking to date, and I hope you all enjoyed it. Keep a lookout for Post-DH fics to start popping up on my author page in August (a respectable waiting period, I think) and possibly more LJ fics, especially around the holidays! Thank you so much, it's been great.**

It was the end of June before any notable events transpired in the life of James Potter. He worked five days out of the week in Hogsmeade, most of his shifts spent causing mild mayhem with Sirius Black (much to female customers' delights), and spent the other two days either taking full advantage of his employee discount or relaxing with the rest of the Marauders at Remus' mum's house. There had been one meeting of the Order of the Phoenix, the first official one, since school had been released, and it was there he had gotten his first fleeting glimpse of Lily Evans, although she ignored him. She had gone with Alice Horowitz and Frank Longbottom, the latter two of who had been sporting rings and seeming positively beside themselves with giddiness. Besides the teens he had attended Hogwarts with, James had only recognized the other wizards from news or notable deeds, if he recognized them at all.

The present afternoon, however, held no such clandestine meetings or fearful discussions. The sun shone brightly and the temperatures were sweltering outside, and while James was working one of the few shifts he was assigned without Sirius by his side, he had had the good fortune to spend the majority of the afternoon thus far in the cool stockroom, supposedly taking inventory. Instead he had fashioned a makeshift stool out of a hefty cardboard box and was leaning against a wall in the corner, his eyes closed and half asleep. The door to the interior of the shop was ajar, and he had been listening to the bloke working the register – the rather clumsy and incompetent Davey Gudgeon, whom James still resented for his failed attempt to get past the Whomping Willow – taking orders and dealing with difficult customers, roasting in the warm June heat.

It was through this eavesdropping that James had managed to hear a familiar voice floating through the door and infiltrating the stockroom.

"Yes, I understand that I didn't purchase the frame here, that's precisely what I've been trying to tell you, Davey!" She sounded exasperated, but Davey's drawling reply showed no signs of picking up on the frustration.

"Well then why've you brought it here, Miss Evans?"

"For the third time, I need you to give it to Potter!"

Davey, who had graduated a year ahead of them, had not been witness to the debacle that had Lily and James had become in their last month at Hogwarts, something that James found himself to be profoundly thankful for as Gudgeon struggled with Lily's unusual request.

"Well why would you want me to do that?"

Lily let out an audible sigh.

"It doesn't matter why! Merlin's beard, all I'm asking you to do is – "

"Can I help you?"

A door to Gudgeon's right had opened and out had stepped James Potter, his glasses slightly frosted from the cold.

"'Ello, James," Lily muttered.

"I can't help but think that I heard my name."

Lily nodded awkwardly. It was the first time they'd had one-on-one contact since the Hogwarts Express, and as pleased as James was, Lily seemed decidedly uncomfortable with the whole encounter.

"A word. Outside?"

James smiled and nodded. He patted on the counter and turned to the bemused Davey. "Man the desk? Good bloke, good bloke." He followed Lily out without another word.

Once they had stepped outside, Lily pulled James to the right and into an alley, one of the few areas of Hogsmeade that was not crowded with witches and wizards looking to enjoy the weather. "I, erm, thought that you weren't going to come, once the first week passed. And then you ignored me at the meeting and I was sure – "

"James, stuff it."

His eyes widened in visible shock as he stared at her, confounded. Whatever greeting he had expected from the girl who had just tried to hard to get a hold of him inside the shop, it certainly hadn't been the salutation he received. "Wha…?"

"Please don't interrupt me, because I need to say what I'm about to say, alright? – no, that was a rhetorical question, don't answer. I read the letters. Every single one, from the first of September to the tenth of June, and… and…"

"And…?"

She glowered at him before continuing. "James Potter, you are an arrogant, pompous, idiotic, ridiculously good-looking toerag." She said this all in one breath, and when she'd finished, James couldn't help but feel it was all very disappointing. He should've known it'd be silly to get his hopes up.

"Ah." He turned around and had walked three steps before her voice filled the alleyway again.

"But in spite of that – in spite of your bullying, and your horrid 'pranks', and your ludicrous and unfounded self-obsession – you are a good person." James froze in his steps, waiting for her to contradict herself or to say something that would reaffirm his suspicions that, yes, he _had_ imagined the statement when he began to hear familiar words. "'_I'm worried about you, Lily, and I hope that counts for something…' 'I don't know how to be there for you. And it's frustrating, yes, but you know that I've been trying…' '…at least you'll know by the gigantic stack of letters that I was serious about you all along, even when you doubted me…'_" She looked in his direction; he had yet to face her, but she could see that his head was hanging and turned so that she appeared in his peripheral vision. "Were these really all you?"

He turned around toward her, his hands in his pockets. "Every word."

She nodded. "Maybe I was wrong about you."

"Yeah, I reckon you were."

She grimaced. "Friends?"

"You know I don't want that."

"Oh. I thought…"

"Dinner, tomorrow night. I'll make reservations." He walked towards her, his hazel eyes boring into her green ones. "What do you say?"

Without breaking their gaze, she slipped her hands into his and nodded.

People three villages over swore they heard James' triumphant shouts.


End file.
